That Godforsaken Spit of Land
by dark-hearted rose
Summary: [[COMPLETE!]] Jack and Elizabeth are stranded on a desert island, that much is certain. The question is...will they survive? Rated for mild language...they are pirates, after all.
1. Chapter 1

**This is just a little idea I had earlier this morning... hope you enjoy it! **

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Chapter 1: Of Stewed Tomatoes and Evaporated Milk

_In which Jack laments the demise of alcohol, Will ponders the meaning of life, and Elizabeth is convinced she will die._

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Captain Jack Sparrow trudged up the beach, fuming. _Damn you, Barbossa!_ he thought angrily. _I hope someone from that measly crew of mine shoots you in the head._

He turned around, taking in both the sight of the Black Pearl rapidly shrinking off in the distance and that of Elizabeth walking up the beach towards him. "That's the second time I've had to watch that man sail away with my ship," he said bitterly. "The second bloody time…"

Elizabeth sighed, also turning to look. "Jack, how did you get off last time?"

Jack walked away from her.

Not to be deterred, she caught up with him and tried again. "Are you the pirate I've read about or not?" she demanded. He looked at her curiously, knocking on the trunk of a palm tree, listening for something. "How did you get off last time?"

"Last time…last time I was here a grand total of three days, all right?" he replied, walking away from the tree with abnormally large steps.

"_What!"_

"The Rum Runners used this island as a cache." He started jumping up and down.

"What in God's name are you doing?"

"Looking for said cache." Satisfied with the muffled sound the ground suddenly decided to produce when he jumped, he leaned over, spotted the handle to the trap door, and pulled. "And from the looks of things," he continued, "they've long since been out of business." He proceeded down the steps, searching for something. "They came by and I was able to barter passage off the island."

"So you spent three days lying on a beach, drinking _rum_?" Elizabeth was appalled.

Jack emerged from the cache with a bottle. "Welcome to the Caribbean, lass," he replied, handing her the liquor.

"_Elizabeth?"_

She knew that voice anywhere. Looking up in surprise and dropping the bottle simultaneously, she exclaimed, _"Will?"_

Sure enough, there, a few feet above her, sitting in a palm tree, was Will. She said something to him, but it was drowned out by a loud, anguished cry from Jack.

"_NOOOOO!"_ He fell to his knees, weeping in despair.

Elizabeth and Will looked down at him, puzzled.

"You dropped the bloody rum!" wailed Jack, rocking back and forth. "That was the last bottle!"

"It shouldn't have bro—"

"Look!" he countered, pointing.

Elizabeth bent down. Sure enough, the bottle had broken on impact with the ground, and the rum was now rapidly leaking out, only to be absorbed by the sand. "It'll do you good not to have it," she observed. When she saw the hungry expression on his face, she added, "And _don't_ try to eat the sand."

"Elizabeth?" called Will hesitantly. "Could you help me get down?"

"You can't do it yourself?"

He shook his head sheepishly.

_Dear God, help me_, she thought. _I'm stuck on a desert island with a couple of babies._

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After a while, Jack recovered from his, erm…grave loss. By that time, however, the sun had already made its way across the sky and sunk far below the horizon. Getting up from his knees and casting one last despairing glance at the shards of glass and damp spot on the ground that his rum had ultimately become, he walked resolutely over to Elizabeth and Will, who were sitting by a small campfire.

"Oh, there you are, Jack," said Will, turning around when he heard Jack's approaching shuffle.

Elizabeth merely looked up at him with mild disdain.

"What are you doing?" he asked, sitting next to Elizabeth.

"What does it look like?" murmured Elizabeth, but Will said, "Just sitting by the fire."

"I see…" He looked around. "Umm…is there, perhaps, something to eat?" he asked hopefully.

Both Elizabeth and Will shook their heads grimly. "We're trying not to think about that."

"Ah." Resigning himself to deal with the hunger gnawing at his stomach, he said, "What _are_ you thinking about?"

Elizabeth answered first. "Home," she said simply.

"And you, Will?"

"I'm trying to figure out the meaning of life," he replied philosophically. "Unfortunately, I haven't gotten very far."

Jack flopped down on his back, gazing up at the stars. "You know what I could really go for right about now?"

"What?"

"Stewed tomatoes and toast."

Elizabeth groaned, but Will added rather energetically, "Yeah, and evaporated milk!"

"Evaporated… Has that even been invented yet?" wondered Jack.

Will shrugged. "I dunno. I just thought it sounded cool."

_We're all going to die_, though Elizabeth miserably, staring into the flames as Jack and Will chatted about nonsense. _We're all going to die…_

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**please review! **

**- dark-hearted rose**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:**

**Here's chapter 2! Sorry it took me a while to update...you know how it is. :D**

**Thanks to the approximately 140 of you who found my summary interesting enough to check out the story, and a special thank you to the seven of you who bothered to reveiw: Cathelle, Jase Andrews, PheelyKataangPrincess, OneSong05, pirateobsessed, haydenlover19, and Tansiana! You guys would rock my socks if I were wearing some right now.**

**anyway, this one's a wee bit shorter than the last one...hope you enjoy!**

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Chapter 2: British Invasion

_In which Will is "rescued", Elizabeth gets giddy, and an unexpected person pops in quite unexpectedly._

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"I'm thirsty," remarked Elizabeth quietly as she gazed up at the stars overhead.

"Aren't we all, love," said Jack. "Aren't we all."

Both turned their heads to look at Will, but he was sound asleep.

"I don't know how he does it," said Elizabeth, more than a little envious.

"How he does what?"

"How he can just sleep like that."

"Uhhh…"

"I mean, here we are, stuck on this island, all going to die, and he's asleep. And that's not all…I remember when I first met him… We rescued him, and he was just lying on that stupid plank in the water."

"What else is there to do?" asked Jack, giving Elizabeth a reproachful glare.

"It was just _rum_, Jack," she protested.

"'Just rum' my arse. I'd preferably like to die happy rather than, well, unhappy."

"How long can humans survive without water?"

"Oh, I dunno," said Jack nonchalantly. "A few days. Why?"

Elizabeth sat up, staring out into the dark expanse that was the open ocean. "That's not long."

"Well, you asked."

"So I did." She squinted her eyes, imagining she saw something moving out on the water.

"What the hell are you looking at?" asked Jack.

"I don't know… It…it looks like a ship…"

Jack stood up like a shot. "_It's the Pearl_," he whispered dramatically.

"We're going to be rescued!" exclaimed Elizabeth.

"Not likely."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Sorry to squash your hopes, love, but they're coming to get Sleeping Beauty, here," replied Jack, nudging Will's prone form with the toe of his boot.

"Damn it!" She flopped back down on the sand, pouting.

Jack observed as the Black Pearl dropped anchor, and two life boats were promptly sent scuttling over to the island.

"Why, hello, Jack. Fancy seeing you here."

"_Barbossa_," spat Jack and Elizabeth simultaneously.

"I believe you've got something of ours," remarked Barbossa as the lifeboat touched the shore.

"And I believe you've got something of mine. That makes us even, then, doesn't it?"

Barbossa scowled. "Get 'im, boys."

Two of the men in the boat with Barbossa climbed out, grabbing Will roughly by the arms and dragging him to the boat, still asleep.

"No," whispered Elizabeth. "Don't take him, please."

"How'd you know he got off?" asked Jack.

"A little birdie told me." Looking behind him to ensure that Will was still in the boat, he barked an order to cast off. "A consolation prize, for the lady," he called, throwing something onto the shore.

Elizabeth glared at the small boat rowing away, scooping up the object; it was a bottle. "Water," she gasped, ripping off the cork and putting the bottle to her lips.

Jack watched in amazement as Elizabeth downed the liquid in a matter of seconds, cast it aside, then began to skip around the campfire, belting out a song at the top of her lungs.

"…_WE'RE RASCALS AND SCOUNDRELS, REALLY BAD EGGS!!! DRINK UP, ME HEARTIES, YO HO!!_"

"What the…" said Jack, picking up the abandoned bottle and sniffing the lip. "Rum!" he exclaimed. "She's bloody _wasted_!"

She continued to stagger drunkenly around the fire, now beset by a round of hiccups. "WEE—_hic_—EEEEE!! Look at—_hic_—me, Mommy! WEEEEE!!!"

He began to approach her, but stopped short at the sound of a loud _pop_ and a swear word. Jack spun around, drawing his sword.

Before him stood a tall youth, with black, untidy hair and black robes, a curious-looking stick in his hands. His bespectacled eyes were regarding Elizabeth with a look of horror.

"'Ello, mate," said Jack.

"Hello," said the newcomer warily. "My name's Harry…where the bloody _hell_ am I?!"

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**please review... the more reveiws I get, the faster I'll write the next one!**

**love,**

**dark-hearted rose**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here it is...the final installment of this noble journey of mine!**

**First off, I apologize for the confusion: I never intended this to be a hp/potc crossover (sorry). I just needed a random character to show up; therefore, I have no further intention of continuing the story with Harry in it. However, since there's been such an amazing response to the fact Harry shows up, perhaps I can work on something along the lines of what happened in those few hours Harry was on the island...it all depends on you guys, of course.**

**Oh, just a head's up...there's a little poke at something I don't really like all that much at the very end of the chapter. Hope you enjoy reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing it, if not more.**

**Now, without further ado...chapter three!**

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Chapter 3: Get Lost

_In which…well, you can just see for yourself._

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Jack's head was spinning. He had just spent a few hours with that Potter bloke, discussing some of life's greatest mysteries, examining such questions as: "What is the true nature of good and evil?", "Why _do_ boy bands sing like little girls?", and, "Is it chicken, or tuna?"

Who knew? How did he know that this island really existed? That it just wasn't a figment of his imagination? He had thought it impossible to just appear out of thin air, but now he knew better…

Walking up to the water's edge, he shed his left boot and stuck his big toe into the spray. _Yup_, he thought. _I'm here, sure enough. I'm still here on this goddam island…_

He looked over his shoulder at the inert form lying on the beach a few yards from him. _Poor lass_, he thought. _She's going to have a hell of a headache when she wakes up._

He flopped back down on the sand, looking to the east; dawn was breaking. _Almost a full day. Dear God, I hope we get off this thing soon._ He deeply envied the Potter boy; he could come and go at will with the use of that little stick he carried around! But, then again, he didn't think he'd very much like being pursued all over Britain by one of the most evil—what was the word again? Wizard? Yes, that was it.—wizards of the century. Hell, he didn't even like being chased by other _pirates_, let alone that fellow.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud groan. He looked over at Elizabeth and saw that she was starting to regain consciousness.

"Oh my God," she said, her voice hoarse. She sat up, then immediately fell back onto the sand again, bringing a hand to her head. "What happened?"

"You were drunk," he said. "Seeing as you managed to down a whole bottle of rum in a matter of seconds, I'm not surprised."

She sat up again, a string of rather offensive curses slipping out of her mouth. At Jack's surprised look, she said with a shrug, "I've been hanging around pirates for too long."

He chuckled. "For some reason, I've got the strange notion that you already knew those words, Miss Swann."

She glared at him, looking all the more menacing because of her hangover. "Oh, go to hell, Jack."

"Not yet, I won't," he replied giddily, coming to his feet. "Not when I'm still quite alive and ticking, thank you." He paused. "Which is more than I can say for you, at present."

"God, Jack, will you just _go away_? I'm trying to pretend you're not here, and it doesn't help that you keep chattering at me like that idiotic monkey of Barbossa's."

"All right, fine," he replied, starting to walk away. "But how do you think the monkey feels about what you just said, eh?" he said in a loud whisper.

"JACK!"

"Okay! All right! I'll shut up!" _Women!_ he thought, annoyed. _There's no living with them…but there's sure as hell no living without them._

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"Commodore!"

Norrington looked up at the sailor stationed in the Crow's Nest. "What is it, Jones?"

"Signal fire on that island over there!" Jones replied, pointing southwest.

Sure enough, there was the smoke, rising some hundreds of feet above the island. He pulled out his spyglass and peered through it. "That's it, there," he said. "Make for the island!" he commanded in the general direction of the helm.

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"Jack!"

"I thought you were pretending I didn't exist," he said tartly.

"No, but, look! A ship!"

He sat up slowly from where he'd been sunbathing on the beach. "Oh, how absolutely wonderful!" he said with heavy sarcasm. "Commodore to the rescue, eh?"

"But, we're going to live! We're not going to die! We're not going to die!"

He sighed. "Aye, there'll be no living with her after this," he muttered.

"What did you say, Jack?" asked Elizabeth suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all…" he said between clenched teeth.

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"Elizabeth, are you all right?" asked Norrington as the two were brought aboard.

She launched herself at him, hugging him tightly. "Oh, God, you have no idea how grateful I am! …I could…I could marry you!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, really?" said Norrington, an eyebrow cocked in surprise.

"A wedding? I love weddings!" said Jack. "Drinks all around!"

"Not just yet, Mr. Sparrow," said Norrington. "Men, cast off!" he shouted at the crew.

"I know," said Jack, putting his wrists together and stretching his arms out in front of him. "'Clap him in irons', right?"

"Mr. Sparrow, I want you to help us to chart a course to the Isla de Muerta. Afterwards, you will contemplate all possible meanings of the phrase 'Silent as the grave'. Do I make myself clear?"

Jack sighed. "Inescapably."

Norrington nodded, satisfied. "Good." He turned to leave, the rest of the crew with him, leaving Jack alone for a few moments.

Jack looked out at the island as the ship caught wind and began the journey to Isla de Muerta. _It doesn't look all that small from this angle_, thought Jack in surprise. _We might not have starved after all_.

He turned away and walked up the deck to join Norrington at the map, and at that moment an airplane, part of it engulfed in flames, split in half in midair, each respective half landing on opposite sides of that godforsaken spit of land.

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**Bwahahaha! For those of you who didn't get the reference (take a peek at the chapter title again...), I hate the show "Lost". Sorry, but that's just me.**

**Please review. Your opinion matters to me, I promise!**


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